Not the Day He Had Planned
by Leesa Perrie
Summary: It all started when Neal took Bugsy for a walk one cold Christmas morning...


**Not the Day He Had Planned**

**by Leesa Perrie and Jayne Perry**

_A/N: I have taken liberties with canon and placed this fic towards the end of S2, despite the episodes being filmed in summer. Seeing as there is a definite light-hearted (and maybe tiny bit cracked) feel to this fic, I don't think anyone's going to mind about it being Christmas too soon, canon-wise. And anyway, you could always consider it AU if you like! Also, I should probably point out that this is not my normal writing style, but something of an experiment - that may or may not have worked._

_Thanks: This fic would not have been finished if not for Jayne Perry encouraging me and writing of some scenes towards the end, that she then told me to edit and expand as I wished. Considering it was initially meant to be published for Christmas 2012, I cannot thank her enough for not letting me leave this sitting around for yet another year (or few)._

_Also, a big thank you to sholio for the beta and some very good advice that helped this fic be better than it was. Any remaining mistakes are mine._

* * *

><p>Every year, a few days before Christmas, Mozzie disappeared, reappearing on the 26th as if nothing had happened. Neal had learned long ago not to bother asking where Mozzie went, he never got an answer. Clearly, it was one of those secrets that Mozzie would never share - which was fine, Neal had a few of those himself.<p>

(Mozzie had a secret. Every year he became a diminutive and bespectacled Santa at various group homes and orphanages, doling out presents he had bought for the children with his own, if not entirely legally earned, money right up to and including Christmas day. Something he didn't want anyone to know, not even Neal. Not that Neal wouldn't understand, but really, this sort of philanthropic endeavour was not good for his image in the criminal underworld, so he guarded it closely.)

Last year, Neal's first Christmas out of jail, June's family had descended on her house and Neal had retreated to his apartment, only to be dragged (not _quite_ literally) downstairs by both Cindy and June. He'd felt like an interloper, and certainly a few family members gave him suspicious looks, but after dinner he entertained the younger children (and some older ones too) with a few sleight of hand and card based 'magic' tricks. That seemed to break the ice, as did June insisting on him singing a couple of songs with her later that evening.

(June had been disappointed in her brother, who had believed Neal was out to fleece her of everything she owned. She'd had to take him to task for believing her to be so gullible as to fall for someone else's con, and had made sure to do so in front of several other family members when she did. After that, Neal was welcomed, because none of them wanted a wrathful June scolding them so eloquently and publicly for believing she might be in any way naive.)

This year, though, her family were going to Italy for the holidays. Little Samantha had a new kidney and was finally fit enough to travel and June had promised to take her to Italy as soon as she was well. That it fell over Christmas was unfortunate, as June was full of guilt at the thought of leaving Neal all on his own, but Neal had merely smiled and told her to go. He would be fine, and besides, he'd have Bugsy to keep him company.

(Bugsy liked Neal. He walked him and talked to him, and slipped him morsels of wonderful human food that June never did. He'd even given him a brand new collar once - the one Neal wore on his leg - though it had been taken from him by an unhappy Jones. Bugsy didn't know why Jones was unhappy, or why he had to lose his new collar, but he noted that Neal had it back on his leg when he next gave Bugsy a walk.)

Peter and Elizabeth had spent last Christmas at Peter's parents house, and this year it was their turn to host the family. El's parents were in one of the third floor guest rooms, Peter's parents in the one next to that, El's sister and husband were in the second floor guest room, with their children camping in the living room with Satchmo.

Peter had spent the entire week before Christmas moaning to Neal - and Jones and Diana and anyone else in the wrong place at the wrong time - about having a full house with nowhere to escape to. Neal had tried to commiserate, he really did, but it was only for three nights. He didn't add that it was better than being alone, because no, he didn't want to open up that can of worms or have Peter to tell him to 'cowboy up' or something equally as unsympathetic.

So now, Christmas morning, and Neal had decided to open his presents after dinner. Opening presents always made him feel liked, even loved, and so doing that later would hold the loneliness at bay for a while. Grabbing Bugsy's leash, he went to find the little dog. A short walk would do them both good and still leave Neal time to get started on his dinner preparations. Just because he was alone didn't mean he couldn't have a feast, and seeing as it was just himself, he'd treated himself to some Cornish hens and other 'fancy stuff' as Peter would say.

* * *

><p>The weather was cold and frosty but at least there was no snow on the ground, which Neal was thankful for. White Christmases were great if you could stay indoors or were a kid, but not so great when walking a dog, and a pampered one at that. Neal tried not to think about what he must look like, a man wrapped up against the cold temperatures walking a similarly wrapped up dog. Though Neal was grateful that at least June wasn't one of those owners who put booties on their dogs. And if Neal's scarf was wrapped higher over his face than normal, and his hat pulled down lower, well, that was just sensible in this sort of weather. When walking a small dog in a coat.<p>

(June was perfectly aware that Neal found walking Bugsy embarassing at this time of the year, but Bugsy's needs to keep warm were greater than Neal's sense of decorum, so she didn't let it worry her. Besides, it amused her to see him trying to act all nonchalent and unworried about his image, while using his scarf and hat to hide his face. He really was adorable at times.)

Turning the corner of the block, Neal sighed in relief as the house came back into view. A few minutes and he could defrost himself while making dinner.

Of course, that was when the inevitable happened. An icy sidewalk, an excited dog who could see home was in view, a tug of the leash when Neal wasn't prepared, and Neal was on the ground, groaning.

That had hurt.

(Unfortunately for Neal, that part of the sidewalk had been in the sun for a short time and then the water droplets had iced up again, making it more slippery than an ice rink.)

Bugsy nosed him, no doubt wondering what Neal was doing on the ground. Sighing, Neal tried to get up, only for his right ankle to give way. Great.

Looking around, he couldn't see anything he could use to lever himself up with, so he tried again, careful not to put weight on his foot, and somehow managed to stand. The house suddenly seemed a long way away. He tried limping first, tentatively putting pressure on his right leg, but he could feel it wasn't going to hold his weight and so quickly desisted.

Hopping it was then. Hopping, with a dog on a leash that was eager to get home and an icy pavement that was hard enough to walk on with two legs, let alone one.

Neal made it about ten feet, albeit slowly and with much difficulty, before the inevitable happened as Bugsy pulled him off-centre and Neal found himself on the ground again. His hands and left knee complained bitterly, but worst of all, he'd let go of the leash. Looking around, knowing June would kill him (hopefully not literally) if he lost her dog, he was pleased to see Bugsy running up the steps to the house.

(Bugsy could smell home. He didn't understand what Neal was doing on the ground. It didn't look at all comfortable to him, not like the sofa in Neal's room - or the bed. He wished Neal would hurry up and let him in. He was starting to feel really cold. And hungry.)

Heaving himself up, Neal tried hopping again, only for his left knee to complain and have him back on the ground for a third time in less than five minutes. This was frustrating, the house was right_ there_. He just had to get to it, but his right ankle wasn't going to bear any weight, his left knee wasn't much better, and there was nothing to hold onto or use as a crutch.

Sighing again, he got out his phone.

* * *

><p>Peter was sure he was about to go crazy. Too many people, too much noise and nowhere to hide. He'd tried to make it out of the back door twice, but both times had been intercepted by someone wanting to show him pictures on their digital cameras. He was either going to scream or shoot someone if he saw one more vacation photo! He had been working particularly hard lately and he and El hadn't had a break in over three months, so photos of other people on vacation were the last thing he needed.<p>

(What Peter didn't know was that El's Mom had heard that the two of them hadn't been away for a while and had persuaded various family members to show their vacation photos in the hope of getting Peter to take her daughter away, as she thought the two of them were looking pale.)

Thankfully for Peter's sanity his phone rang and he grasped it like a drowning man reaching out for a lifebuoy.

"Peter."

"Neal," Peter said, trying not to sound too happy. "Why are you calling me?"

"I fell and I can't get up," Neal said lightly, though Peter thought he could detect a more serious undertone.

"What do you mean?" Peter asked, hearing a sigh from Neal in return.

(Neal had been trying to make things light, but really, this was just embarrassing and he felt like an idiot needing to call anyone for help. Though from the tone of Peter's voice, he was pretty sure Peter would take any excuse to get away from his home and all of his relatives.)

"I was walking Bugsy and slipped on the ice, hurting my right ankle. Then Bugsy pulled me over again and now my left knee is also not happy. I can't get up. Believe me, I've tried. So... I was wondering if rescuing your CI from an ice-bound sidewalk was in your job description, or not."

"Drunk too much wine already?" Peter teased.

"No, I have not drunk too much wine," Neal said, sounding slightly annoyed.

"Isn't there anyone else that can help you? June? Mozzie?"

(Did Peter not hear Neal last week when he'd said that June would be away over the Christmas period? Clearly not, he mused, feeling even more aggrieved.)

"June's away and Mozzie... Mozzie tends to disappear at Christmas. No idea where or why."

"Probably investigating whether Santa is really an alien or something equally ridiculous," Peter added.

"I thought it better not to ask," Neal replied.

"For the best, I imagine. Where are you?"

"I can see the front door from here. And Bugsy waiting for me to open it for him."

"Right. I'll give my apologies and be with you soon."

(Neal couldn't help but notice the delight bleeding into Peter's voice at the thought of giving his apologies and escaping. Well, at least one of them was enjoying this situation.)

"Thanks, Peter."

* * *

><p>A short while later, Neal saw Peter's car round the corner and park next to him and a sense of relief swept over him. Finally, he could get off the cold ground and return to his apartment.<p>

"Comfortable down there?"

"Just hurry and get me up."

Peter slipped his arm under Neal's and tried to help the younger man to stand. But after much yelping it was obvious that Neal was in a worst state than Peter had anticipated.

(Bugsy wondered why Neal was making that noise. It sounded like Neal was in pain, which was upsetting. He didn't like his friends to be sad or in pain. Maybe if he went over and licked Neal, he'd start to feel better? June seemed to feel better when Bugsy licked her face when she was sad.)

"This dog is not helping." Peter moaned. "Give me June's keys and I'll let him in."

Reluctantly, Neal handed over the keys, not sure how June would feel about an unchaperoned Fed loose in her house, even if said Fed was Peter and he was only letting Bugsy in. Moments later, Peter was back.

"Okay, 911 or do you think you can make it to the car?"

"Neither. Just get me up to my apartment," Neal said, just wanting to get inside and forget all of this.

"Nope. ER or I leave you here."

(Peter almost laughed at the glare he received, it was so predictable. Although he could understand why Neal might prefer to be back in his own space rather than go to ER, there was no way Peter was going to give into him about this. Neal couldn't even stand, that warranted medical attention in Peter's book.)

"See, I knew you'd see it my way. Let's get you into the car and I'll drive you there."

* * *

><p>After several hours spent at the ER, Neal was more than glad to be getting out of there. It seemed that being Christmas Day hadn't reduced the waiting time any, something he had feared and part of why he'd wanted to stay home. Of course, the fact that his ankle had a hairline fracture only made Peter look smug about his decision to bring him here, though at least his knee was only bruised. The addition of a pair of crutches, which were harder to use than one might imagine, had been the cherry on top of this exasperating day.<p>

Still, the nurse had been cute, even if she hadn't given him her phone number. Neal put it down to her being over worked, rather than any problems with his charm.

(What he didn't know was that Nurse Judy had been struck by how much Neal looked like her younger brother, even down to the same charismatic smile. There was no way she could even think of going out with him, it would just feel too weird.)

On the walk back to the car, Neal had valiantly ignored Peter's quiet amusement at his difficulty with the crutches and the muttered comment about not being so poised and elegant now. The drive back was quiet as he did _not_ sulk, but contemplated how quickly his Christmas plans had gone awry.

(Peter knew that Neal wouldn't expect or appreciate any overt sympathy from him, and would certainly not want to be fussed over, so instead he gently teased Neal about the hilarious debacle called walking with crutches that he had been witnessing. He also allowed Neal to sulk during the drive, knowing how difficult Neal was to deal with when he got like that - and there were better battles to fight yet.)

Neal gave a sigh of relief when they pulled up in front of his place, allowing Peter to help him from the car, though admittedly with bad grace.

"I can manage now," Neal said once upright.

"All those stairs? You wouldn't get past the first flight. Anyway, El would never forgive me if I didn't see you safely through your front door."

Neal gave up at the mention of El's name. He'd overheard Peter updating her at the hospital and knew that if he didn't cooperate with Peter, she would come over. While Neal was secretly glad of Peter's help, he was also feeling bad about keeping Peter from his family for most of the day and didn't want to risk El being pulled away from them too. Especially as she was probably in her element in the midst of the chaos, unlike Peter.

(El was actually feeling the need to get away from everyone. She loved catering for people and spending time with her family, but even she was beginning to feel caged in. There were too many people and not enough room. Next year they would be doing things differently, that was certain.)

As they entered the house, Bugsy rushed over and Neal was even more grateful for Peter being here as the dog insisted on getting under Neal's feet and threatening to topple him - yet again.

(Bugsy was happy to see people again, having been waiting for ages and ages for someone to fuss over him and feed him. He didn't know why Neal had two poles to lean on, or why Peter was trying to fend him off, but he hoped Neal would feed him soon.)

"Will you be okay while I put Bugsy in the kitchen?" Peter asked.

"Yeah. He's probably hungry," Neal replied. "His food's in the cupboard. Could you feed him too?"

"Sure."

(Of course, when Peter got to the kitchen, he realised that he hadn't asked which cupboard the dog food was in, and there were a lot of cupboards to search. Still, in the process of searching for Bugsy's food, he'd found a cookie jar and June was now minus two cookies. He didn't think she'd mind and he couldn't resist, having only had a candy bar for lunch from the ER's vending machine.)

Neal fidgeted as he waited for Peter to return from the kitchen, wondering what was taking so long, and then grudgingly let Peter help him up the stairs. It took a lot longer than Neal thought it would, the crutches proving to be even more unruly on stairs than they were on a level floor. He couldn't be more relieved to finally reach his front door, even more so when he was able to sink onto his couch.

"Hadn't you better be getting back to your guests?" Neal asked.

"You serious? If I look at another vacation photo I'll turn into The Hulk! Besides, I don't think you should be left alone just yet. You're still not steady on your feet and I can't risk my CI falling and hitting his head on the bathroom sink."

"I'll be fine."

"Right," Peter said, sounding unconvinced and hitting speed dial on his phone. "El, honey. Neal's pretty bashed up and I can't leave him. I was really looking forward to coming back, but ..." There was a pause as El obviously interrupted Peter. "You will? You don't have to do that... Okay, see you soon then."

(El was all too glad to have an excuse to leave her guests for a while, especially as her mom was talking about playing Charades and that was something she definitely wanted to avoid. She knew from past experience how quickly that could deteriorate into a family disagreement. A quick explanation to her family, a promise not to be too long, and she made her escape.)

Neal waited patiently for Peter to explain the phone call, wondering if hitting him with a crutch would help.

"Well?"

"El is coming over and she's bringing food."

"She doesn't need to do that, I've got food in the refrigerator."

"Too late."

"Great," Neal muttered, sighing. "Could you get Bugsy? He's probably lonely."

Peter nodded, and finally Neal was alone, if only for a few minutes. Bliss.

(Bugsy was overjoyed to see Peter. Peter was nice and had fed him and smelled of dog. Even better, Peter took him upstairs to see Neal, who was on his couch with his legs up, the perfect place for Bugsy to jump up and cuddle him. He didn't know why Neal yelped when he landed on Neal's legs, or why Peter grabbed him and put him back on the floor, but he jumped up again - this time onto Neal's chest - and settled down for a petting.)

* * *

><p>Peter's eyes lit up when El arrived, hoping she might shake Neal out of his morose mood.<p>

"The food just needs warming up," El said, bustling about at Neal's kitchenette.

"Thank you for doing this," Neal said gratefully. "You really didn't need to."

"Don't be silly," El admonished him. "Besides, my mom was talking about a game of Charades and it seemed like a good time to retreat."

Peter nodded, remembering the last time the Mitchell family had played Charades. El's sister was really bad at guessing titles, and was even worse when it was her turn to mime, which usually ended up with tears. It seemed El was not the only competitive person in her family. Peter was glad to be missing the forthcoming tantrum.

(Neal was wondering what the big deal was about Charades. Sure, it wasn't the most fun game he'd ever played, but it wasn't as bad the Peter and El's expressions seemed to suggest it was. Maybe he'd prise the story out of Peter sometime, because he was sure there must be a story there.)

As the food warmed up, the smell pervaded the apartment reminding Peter how long it had been since he'd last eaten. Hearing Neal's stomach rumble made him smile, though also feel a little guilty. Neal hadn't even had a candy bar for lunch and Peter hadn't thought to buy him one for when he was released.

"I'll set the table," Peter said. "Do you want to eat there?"

"No, I can make it to the table," Neal replied.

"Oh honey, you'd be better keeping your legs elevated," El said sweetly.

"I can use a dining chair to do that."

"If you're sure," El said, turning it into a question and sharing a concerned look with Peter.

"It'll be fine," Neal reassured her. Peter just shook his head at Neal's stubbornness, but figured he'd probably be just as bad in Neal's place.

* * *

><p>Once they were sat at the table, El smiled at 'her boys' and raised her glass. "Merry Christmas," she toasted, and Peter and Neal responded in kind.<p>

El watched as the two men ate and filled her in on what had happened in the ER, including Neal's lack of acquiring any phone numbers from the female nurses there. She'd already eaten with her family and so just nibbled on some crackers while she watch the two men tuck in.

As they talked, her gaze drifted over to the window where the view of New York twinkled prettier than any Christmas tree, at least to her eyes. It was the word 'Mozzie' that suddenly brought her back to the conversation.

"...he normally calls in the evening. Not that he wishes me a Merry Christmas or anything, that's not his thing," Neal was saying. "He can come over and look after me so you can get back to your guests."

(Neal was secretly hoping that Peter and El would go home and that Mozzie wouldn't call. He didn't want to keep the Burkes from their family any longer, and he certainly didn't feel up to Mozzie's special brand of suffocating concern, nor his admonishments to be more careful in future. He really just wanted to go to bed.)

"We'll stay until he calls," Peter said.

"You really don't have to," Neal argued.

"I'll call him," El said, entering the conversation, not giving Neal a chance to argue as she quickly pressed speed dial. "I'll feel better knowing that he's on his way."

* * *

><p>Neal sighed and endured listening to her filling Mozzie in on what had happened. It sounded more and more like a comedy routine the way she described it, and Peter certainly seemed to be enjoying her version of the facts. Neal rolled his eyes.<p>

"So that's settled. Thanks, Mozzie," El said, finishing the conversation. "We'll just wash the dishes for you."

"No, that's fine. It will give Mozzie something to do other than just drink my wine," Neal replied, with a wry smile.

"I don't think that will slow Mozzie down much," El answered, smiling. "But if you're sure, then we'll head home."

"We could wait for Mozzie to arrive before going," Peter put in, giving Neal a desperate look, clearly wanting to put off going home to a full house as long as possible.

"No, really, that's okay, You've done more than enough as it is," Neal said, with a wide smile. Peter's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.

"One of us will come over tomorrow to check on you. No arguments," El said firmly.

Neal knew when he was beaten and just nodded acquiescence.

A few goodbyes later, and finally he was alone. Well, other than Bugsy, who had taken to Neal's bed.

(Bugsy had tried to beg food from Peter and Elizabeth during the meal, but no food had been forthcoming from them. Neal had proved a better target, though Bugsy had been disappointed at how little Neal had shared with him. Still, at least he had Neal's comfortable bed to himself. It was a nice bed. Not as nice as June's, but nice enough.)

All things considered, it had been an embarrassing and painful day. And yet Neal couldn't help the warm feeling that filled him at the thought of Peter spending most of the day with him and of El coming over with food. They really had gone out of their way to help him - and even if Peter had been more than glad to escape his home, Neal still felt grateful to him for staying. It was good to have friends like the Burkes.

Maybe this Christmas hadn't turned out quite so terrible after all.

Well, despite the broken ankle, bruised knee and the approaching Mozzie hurricane, of course.

The End


End file.
